


Rough Hunt

by Fenix21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Dean grabbed the kid off the third step up and dragged him in, hauling him up against his chest and burying his face in the boy’s tangled mess of shaggy curls, breathing him in great gulps, saturating himself with <span class="u">sammysamrealalive</span>.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Hunt

Dean was rolling out of the seat and had his boots in the gravel before John even got the Impala in park. 

He’d been watching his oldest boy for the last hundred miles, sitting across from him, body strung so tight the tension in it was almost an audible hum in the silence, his throat clicking drily as he swallowed back resurgent sobs at the remembered images John could see tightening the corners of his eyes. His hands were balled up, fisting the denim of his jeans, while he alternated staring blindly out the passenger window, or gazing avidly through the windshield like he could somehow make the car go faster by peering out ahead, around the night shrouded curves in the road. He was still covered in blood, they both were, but Dean hadn't been in a state to clean up or sleep the night in a hotel room. He needed to be home. 

He hit the ground at a near sprint, took Bobby’s front stairs two at a time, blowing past the older hunter without so much as a nod of acknowledgment. He was through the door and reaching for Sam who, despite it being a school night and past one in the morning, was clamoring down the stairs to meet his brother, called to wakefulness by that subtle secret psychic connection they had shared since Sam was in the crib. Dean grabbed the kid off the third step up and dragged him in, hauling him up against his chest and burying his face in the boy’s tangled mess of shaggy curls, breathing him in great gulps, saturating himself with _sammysamrealalive_. Sam looked slightly startled at the desperate welcome but sank into his brother’s embrace after only a second or two, hugging him back with equal fierceness, understanding through the same bond that had brought him rushing down the stairs that Dean needed to feel the heat of him, the steady thrum of his blood and beat of Sam’s heart against his own chest.

John came trudging up the stairs more slowly, hand in his hair, eyes tired and worried, watching Dean through the screen door with an anxious gaze. Bobby followed it.

‘Rough hunt?’ he asked.

John nodded, still watching his boys. ‘You could say that.’

‘Shifter like you thought?’

‘Yeah.’ John pulled a hand down his face. It was shaking a little. ‘Different breed. Not one we’ve run across before.’

‘How so?’

‘It didn’t need a physical body to copy from.’ He looked in at Dean, still wrapped around Sam like maybe he could squeeze just a little harder and he would pull the boy inside himself if that were possible. ‘It could get inside your head, your memories, and pull out an image of a person.’

Bobby blew out a surprised breath. ‘Wow. That’s a new trick. So, you saw…?’

‘Mary.’

‘Shit, John,’ Bobby said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder briefly in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry. You kill it?’

‘Dean did.’

‘Goddamnit,’ Bobby swore. ‘That must’ve screwed with the kid’s head.’

John continued to gaze at his sons, Dean slumped a little now, like Sam was holding up his weight, shoulders shaking. He might have been crying, and John couldn’t really blame him, thought back to the agonized, furious tears he'd cried in that warehouse, screaming at the top of his voice for that twisted fucker to get out of his head. Sam was stroking his back now, talking softly to him. John couldn’t hear the words, but he could see Dean nodding slowly to them, the first real responsiveness he'd shown in hours.

‘Yeah, well,’ he said slowly. ‘He didn’t see the same thing I did.’

‘What did he—?’ Bobby cut off, looked back at the boys again, realization dawning over how Dean had come up the steps, face haggard and desperate, eyes seeking only one thing—Sam.  The way he had tugged his kid brother off the steps and pulled him in, cocooning him in his arms, holding him like he wanted to wrap his whole body around the boy. He stood there, horror-struck. ‘Oh, Christ, John.’

‘Yeah,’ John said again. He reached for the door and went in quietly. Neither of his boys acknowledged him right away. He put a hand on the back of Dean’s neck. His son started, tensed, and forced himself straight, but didn’t quite let go of his brother. John felt a twist of guilt just below his heart that he had so ingrained this response in his son, his son who hadn't even seen eighteen summers pass, who he had made into a fighter and a killer, and had twice the fodder for nightmares in his head now than John had returning from Vietnam. He squeezed lightly. ‘Dean, why don’t you go get cleaned up, get some rest. I’ve got a little research to do, so we won’t leave right away.’

‘Yessir.’ Dean nodded.

‘Your bed’s already made up, son,’ Bobby added. ‘Go wash up and fall into it. We got nowhere to be in the mornin’.’

Dean nodded again and slowly relinquished his hold on Sam, all but a finger that he kept tightly hooked with Sam’s pinky, to let the kid precede him up the stairs. John and Bobby stood below, watching them climb up into the shadows.

‘That boy ain’t gonna get over this any time too soon,’ Bobby said quietly. ‘You realize that, right?’

John’s hand tightened on the stair rail where it had come to rest. ‘Yeah. I know.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is only about the most unimaginative title, but. *shrugs* This piece was originally a whole lot longer until I realized I was using way too many words to convey the very simple fact that Dean was more than broken after being forced to kill what looked like his beloved Sammy on a hunt. So, here is the much pared down, hopefully more potent version.
> 
>  
> 
> [Lochinvar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lochinvar/pseuds/Lochinvar) will be very pleased to know that I toiled for HOURS over this one, tweaking incessantly. ;-)


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